


Reindeer Games

by emma98



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy is a spy, Darcy is a spy who keeps running into Steve while she is on missions, F/M, Lewis Darcy Lewis, Steve/Darcy Christmas fic/art exchange 2016, silly shenanigans and fluff, smitten Steve is adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 11:23:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9069391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emma98/pseuds/emma98
Summary: Steve Rogers keeps running into Darcy Lewis.  Except she's not really Darcy Lewis every time.  She's a wealthy business woman, or a waitress, sometimes even a figure skater.   If he didn't know better, he'd say that she was currently employed as a super spy.
And as it turns out, he doesn't really care what she's actually up to.  He just wants to gather the courage to finally ask her out on a date.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TaleasOldasTimeandSpace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleasOldasTimeandSpace/gifts).



> And another exchange fic for Christmas! This one is for the Steve/Darcy exchange that mcgregorswench took the time to organize so nicely. 
> 
> And this particular fic is for taleasoldastimeandspace. the original prompt: Darcy's a secret agent - SHIELD, whatever - and she keeps running into Steve on missions, necessitating increasingly wild cover stories - olympic figure skater, Salvation Army bell-ringer, etc.
> 
> Merry Christmas and I hope that you enjoy this! Thanks for giving such a wildly fun prompt!
> 
> (I apologize for the crappy visual. I was inspired to put something together thanks to the many costumes/disguises, but I am awful with photoshop).

**Reindeer Games**

** **

 

Natasha Romanoff thought she was  _ hilarious _ .

 

But what she was, was an actual facts troll.  Most people didn’t know that about her.  She always looked so calm, cool, confident and one hundred thousand percent capable, that people didn’t even suspect her being the one who loosened the tops off of salt shakers at restaurants (right before Clint was about to sprinkle some on his fries).  And she had certainly gotten away with secretly publishing the top selling risqué Superhero calendar for charity (the surprisingly high quality candid shot of a shirtless Bucky with  photoshopped Santa hat had broken Twitter).  And of course no one could forget that time she’d managed to make Tony appear bankrupt and then filmed a secret documentary of his riches to rags transformation (it had been nominated for a Golden Globe).

 

And yet, only four people knew of Natasha’s shenanigans.

 

Nicholas J. Fury, who was rather proud of Natasha and only asked that she focus her mischievous energy elsewhere, after she had already made all the doorways in the first helicarrier a half an inch too small for Fury to walk into a room without having to duck his head (He had already given himself a concussion the first time he tried to walk onto said helicarrier).

 

Bucky Barnes, whose first hard fought memory of his Natalia involved a young woman stranding a set of handlers in the mountains and allowing the young girls of the Red Room two whole days of happiness and freedom (while she and James spent the two days eating sugar, taking long walks and trying to make hot chocolate out of meager supplies).  

 

Steve Rogers, who could recognize a fellow troll on sight.  It was one of the main reasons why he never said yes to any of the women that Natasha tried to set him up with.  He only half believed that Natasha was trying to make sure he wasn’t lonely.  The other half of him was firmly convinced that Natasha was trying to set him up with  senior citizens in his  _ actual _ age group (or worse yet, a grand-daughter of someone he once knew).  

 

And lastly, the person who was perhaps Natasha’s biggest cheerleader when it came to her more irreverent secret antics, Darcy Lewis.  Darcy Lewis who prided herself on catching Natasha trying to troll her into working for Tony Stark.  Darcy Lewis who avoided Natasha’s attempts to enroll her in all forms of online dating.  Darcy Lewis, who managed to stop Natasha from selling Scott Lang in his miniature form in a glass display case on ebay (he had been advertised as a hyper realistic toy and had sold for over two thousand dollars).  

 

Darcy had found herself at a crossroads a few years back, she had reached the end of her usefulness to Jane, and had actually reached the end of her willingness to pretend to understand the science she had so faithfully transcribed for years.  Thor was on Earth full-time now (intergalactic vacations with his lady love not withstanding).  And he was an even better caretaker for Jane, able to lure her away from science with promises of bulging biceps and gentle forehead kisses (Darcy assumed, she didn’t like to think of her pseudo siblings doing anything more than handholding and chastity).

 

So when Pepper Potts had approached her with the idea to help build a replacement for SHIELD a few years ago, Darcy rose to the challenge.  And she had been amazing setting up the administrative end of SWORD.  It was now a well oiled machine, with trusted and efficient desk jockeys who could handle crisis after crisis with their eyes closed and their hands tied behind her back.

 

Darcy Lewis was prone to boredom, though.  She liked to be challenged and to constantly strive for projects that tested her skills and limits and had her coming out at the end a better person.  

 

So when Natasha casually suggested training Darcy in the field, Darcy took a leap of faith that Natasha wasn’t trolling her.  And that leap of faith had her landing on solid ground.  So Darcy Lewis, aged twenty-seven, with a Bachelor’s Degree in political science, a very long unpaid astrophysics internship and close personal relationships with six out of the seven Avengers (Captain America was an elusive kind of guy, and very busy, after all), was finally embarking on one last new career.  This one, she knew, would be plenty challenging enough to keep her busy for years and years to come.

 

Or at least, she hoped that it would.

 

* * *

 

 

“Heads up, Boss,” Cameron Klein spoke over the infinitesimally small earpiece.  “Your mark just used his key card to leave his office.”

 

“Don’t call me  _ boss _ , Cam” Darcy muttered, smoothing out the lines of her perfectly fitted blue dress.  It was incredibly flattering and Darcy knew she had Fairy Godmother Natasha to thank, yet again.  This costume definitely ranked higher than the time she had had to dress as a giant baseball sports mascot.  She wondered if she could keep this dress, it would be  _ perfect _ for all the non-existent dates she had lined up for the new year.

 

“Technically, you are my boss,” Cameron reminded her.

 

“That was over a year ago, before I was put through my paces and earned my outside wings,” Darcy held the to go cup of coffee to her lips as she spoke, a trick Natasha had insisted she perfect on the first day of training.  “And it was your  _ actual _ boss and Natasha that did that for me, remember?”

 

“Sharon doesn’t like it when I call her boss.”

 

Darcy could hear the shy, sheepish smile on Cameron’s lips.  One of these days, Cameron was going file out form 3.21a.f and finally make an honest woman out of Sharon Carter.  But until then, he’d be happy to keep filling out the monthly 3.20a.e form to continue their surprisingly fulfilling dating.  

 

“Radio silence, Cam, I’m going in,” Darcy murmured, getting up gracefully from the uncomfortably stiff couch she had been sitting on in the lobby of the building and smoothing out her dress needlessly as she tossed her head, letting the perfect dark brown waves fly behind her..  She walked up to reception, ready to check in so that she could get the suspected Hydra businessman in the elevator on his way out and force him back in, taking him to the meetup spot on the roof, where Cam had a drone transport waiting for them to head on back to SWORD headquarters.

 

“Oh, excuse me.”

 

The apology came before the collision, and what a collision it was.  It felt like slamming her shoulder into a brick wall and Darcy began (oh so elegantly) windmilling her arms as she began to fall backwards.  The stone wall she had run into had arms though, very strong, quick arms that grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back up so that she was upright and staring up, up, up the perfectly built chest that she had collided with, up to a man’s neck swallowing deeply, to a ridiculously sculpted chin and jawline.  There were adorably flushed cheeks and then Darcy was staring into the concerned baby blues of Mr. July, himself (Natasha had managed to get a picture of him at a barbeque, with a kiss the cook apron on  and seemingly not much else).  

 

“It’s alright,” Darcy credited hours and hours of practice with Maria Hill and Sharon Carter for her ability to get words out at that moment.

 

It’s not like she had a  _ thing _ for Steve Rogers.  He was the only Avenger she hadn’t sought out for a reason though.  And that reason was that he was intimidating.  Not just looks-wise, but  _ hello _ , look at those looks!  

 

But she’d admired him from afar.  And admired him from the candid pictures of him on the internet.  And admired him from Thor’s thrilling tales of adventure and bravery.  Her former college roommates had always laughed at her when she had declared that loyalty was the most attractive thing about a man, and not rock solid pecs and a booty that just wouldn’t quit.  

 

And Steve Rogers had loyalty stamped over every inch of him, inside and out (and all over those rock solid pecs and that booty that just wouldn’t quit).  One need to only look at what he’d been willing to go through for his friends, Bucky in particular, to be thoroughly informed of the man’s loyalty.

 

“You look familiar,” Steve blinked down at her from his very close vantage point.  

 

Because he still had his hands on her waist and was holding her less than a foot away from his own body.  

 

“We’ve met, well, not really met, actually, just sort of, uhm, you know, been in the same room together,” Darcy stammered.  She heard Cameron snort in her ear piece.  She wasn’t usually a stammerer.  Her words never really had a problem leaving her mouth.  Usually the problem was stopping them.  

 

“The birthday party for Doctor Jane Foster two years ago,” Steve answered immediately, blue eyes lighting up in remembrance.  He smiled down at her shyly and gave a slight nod of his head, “You’re Darcy Lewis.”

 

“That I am, but---right now, I’m  _ not _ ?” Darcy blinked up at him.

 

“Oh, really?” Steve couldn’t help but smirk at her.  “Who are you right now, then?  A secret agent spy?”

  
Cameron snorted again.

 

Darcy was going to have to have a chat with the  _ boss _ about sensitivity training for the boyfriend of said boss.

 

“I’m actually having a meeting upstairs, as Patrice Jacquine,” Darcy looked sheepish.  “Tony has me running an errand, donating money for a charity that didn’t want to take it from Stark Industries.  You know, because...weapons and things.”

 

“I didn’t know that you worked for Tony still,” Steve blinked down at her in confusion.  “Maria said you were working with her and Pepper for---”

 

“Oh, I got bored, I found new things to do,” Darcy fibbed easily.  

 

“And being Patrice Jacquine and running around for Tony is that new thing to do?” Steve questioned, like a well meaning puppy with a bone.

 

“I’m flighty like that, surely Thor’s told you,” Darcy nodded.

 

“You have thirty seconds, Boss,” Cameron announced in her ear. 

 

Steve didn’t look convinced of Darcy’s flightiness.  He actually looked very much like he wanted to argue with her.  And she knew that, because the grip on her waist got a little tighter and he pulled her about two inches closer.

 

“Captain Rogers, did you mean to…” Darcy honestly blushed and looked down at the physical contact between them.  She hated to do it, truly.  His hands were large and strong and warm.  She knew that if he got any more in her personal space, she would be hardpressed not to go up on the tips of her toes and plant a kiss on him.  At least on the cheek.  

 

He looked like he could use a little affection, after all.  

 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Steve blurted, dropping his hands and taking two steps back from Darcy as if she could burn him.  “I---you were falling.”

 

“Yeah, I was,” Darcy nodded.  She shrugged at him and pointed towards the elevator banks.  “I’ve got to go.  It was---it was a pleasure literally running into you today.”

 

“I hope to see you again someday, Da---Ms. Jacquine,” Steve smiled.

 

Darcy hesitated one second longer to drink in the sight of that smile.  It looked a little rusty, but it was earnest and downright lovely.  

 

“Smooth,” Cameron chirped in her ear.

 

“Guess who just got practice dummy duty next time Natasha is in house?” Darcy whispered as she forced herself to walk towards the elevator banks just as her mark’s elevator hit the first floor.  She was pushing into the door before he even had a chance to walk out and she flawlessly executed the manhandling maneuver that Natasha had previously used Barton for practice dummy with.   She gave a wicked grin to him and shrugged, “Say Hail Hydra and I’m totally going to knock you out, dude”

 

* * *

 

  
  


“Seriously?  It’s November 1st,” Darcy huffed out in annoyance.

 

Her latest mission had her in Baltimore, Maryland, working at a little diner at the corner of nowhere and boring, where a certain possibly corrupt legislator liked to grab his senior citizen special breakfast (and spill his guts to his favorite henchmen).  

 

“Nothing wrong with a little holiday cheer,” Cameron told her in her earpiece.

 

“It is the first of November, it is sixty-five degrees outside, that’s not even close to the weather being frightful,” Darcy complained as the Christmas carol began playing on the radio piped through the modest speakers.  

 

“You have two minutes until your mark gets there,” Cameron announced.  

 

The bell at the door jingled and in walked six feet and two inches of all American beefcake, looking around at the near empty diner.  His eyes landed on Darcy, clad in the heinous yellow and red waitress uniform that was just one size too small on a frame that refused to be lithe and muscular, no matter how strong Natasha, Maria and Sharon made her.  A beautiful smile bloomed on Steve Rogers face as he recognized her, but it was quickly followed by confusion.  And then suspicion.

 

“Stall the mark!” Darcy hissed at Cameron before running back behind the counter and dropping to her knees.  She grabbed already full sugar dispensers and pretended to fill them up.  A throat cleared above her on the other side of the counter and she did her very best to ignore it and also pray that her coworker was done with her eighth cigarette of the day and would come inside to wait on Captain America.

 

“Ms.---uhm, Jacquine?” Steve called out quietly.

 

Darcy sighed and popped up to her feet behind the counter and gave Steve a bright smile.  She pointed to the name tag and shrugged, “I’m Missy May today.”

 

“Oh---I see, sure, I’m Michael Michaelson today, too,” Steve smirked.  “Why are you here?  And also, why are you Missy May and not Darcy Lewis?”

 

“I was bored,” Darcy shrugged.  “Wanted to see if I could strike out and make it on my own under a new identity?”

 

“Darcy---”

 

“Uh uh uh,” Darcy tapped her name tag.

 

“Missy May,” Steve fought the urge to roll his eyes, but failed mightily.  “Are you---are you working with---with SWORD still, is this a---”

 

“No!  God no, I mean, look at me, do I look like a secret agent?” Darcy’s hands fell to her waist and squeezed at her excess.  “These thighs were not meant for chasing down bad guys.”

 

Steve frowned at that and looked like he was about to say something when  the door bells jingled again and Darcy’s eyes lit up.  

 

“Oh!  Hey Doris!  Want to come wait on this old fella, he asked for the prettiest waitress in the place,” Darcy cooed out with a decidedly southern accent.

Doris’ eyes narrowed.   She’d been a waitress for forty years and she was not about to have some young whipper snapper coming in and sexually harassing the spitfire of a new waitress.  

 

“Maria is moving on your mark,” Cameron announced in Darcy’s earpiece.  “She’s got enough to bring him in for questioning.  You’re free and clear this time, boss.”

 

Darcy scampered away from a suddenly red faced Steve as Doris sidled up to the counter and gave him the stink eye.  And Doris’ stink eye could probably have killed a normal man dead where he stood (thank goodness for the super serum).  Darcy shot finger guns Steve’s way before cheerily announcing,

 

“Actually Doris, I feel that this job isn’t right for me, what with all the ne’er do wells siddlin’ up to chat at me.  But I promise to come and visit and bring the recipe of my nana’s world famous sugar cookies!”

 

* * *

 

 

“Cigarette?” Darcy called out gaily.  

 

She finally felt like a secret agent spy, and all it took was an old fashioned cigarette girl uniform in the crowd at the world’s most important boxing event to have ever happened ever the weekend after Thanksgiving.  She just had to get close to that awful billionaire with a penchant for clove cigarettes (disgusting hipster) and then carefully slip the tracking device on his shoe while distracting him with the wonders of her amazingly displayed cleavage.  

 

She was going to kick this mission in the----

 

“Darcy?” 

 

“Really?” Darcy sighed before turning and facing Steve Rogers, whose face was tomato red as he stared down at her in her get up.  Her waist was cinched as tight as it could go with a corset, causing her figure to look like a perfect figure eight.  She had a little more clothing on than your vintage playboy bunny, if only because she had a tiny little dark red flared skirt overtop of the sweetheart neckline one piece bathing suit.  

 

And then there was the seamed stockings, of course.  Maybe that’s why he was so red in the face.  Natasha said she’d bought the very last pair for Darcy to wear on this mission in a small lingerie shop in Paris.  

 

Somehow, that made Darcy feel even more authentic in spyhood.

 

“Change in careers, again?” Steve seemed to get his tomato complexion in check as he reached out for a pack of Lucky Strikes in her box of wares.  

 

“You wouldn’t believe how far these tips go to paying back those student loans,” Darcy quipped.  Steve wasn’t buying it, so she shrugged, “You know me, flighty.”

 

“Here’s the thing, though, you aren’t,” Steve shook his head.  “From what I’ve heard you’re loyal and determined and downright tenacious when you want to be.”

 

“You’ve been asking around about me?” Darcy immediately questioned out of the side of smirking lips, looking up at Steve through her expertly applied false eyelashes.  

 

“Oh, that’s good,” Cameron chuckled in her earpiece.  “Romanoff is going to be proud that you finally managed to deploy the coquette protocol.”

 

“Yes,” Steve replied honestly.  “You’re---you’re fascinating to me.”

 

“And he comes right back with that straight forward honesty!” Cameron gasped playfully on the other end of Darcy’s ear piece.  “You can’t fake that kind of earnestness, they stopped making it a couple decades ago.”

 

“I---” Darcy paused and blinked up at Steve curiously.  “I have to go do something.  And also---you shouldn’t smoke those.”

 

“They’re for Bucky.  It’s a bad habit, but his therapist says it’s either letting him smoke a cigarette every once in awhile or letting him run around and murder people,” Steve said quickly.  He took another step forward, way too far into Darcy’s personal space.  “Darcy, are you in trouble?  Do you need my help?”

 

“No, I’m fine,” Darcy smiled genuinely, warm all the way from her heart to the tips of her toes at Steve’s genuine concern for her.  She’d insisted that she wasn’t working for SWORD and he believed her, but he knew something was up, bright man that he was.  It had been a long time since someone that wasn’t a co-worker or well established friend felt something like that for her.

 

“I feel like I’m being witness to something kind of awesome,” Cameron whispered in her ear, the world’s most obnoxious narrator.  “Boss, you got your Mary one hundred yards away on your six.”

 

“I have to go,” Darcy whispered, before turning on her very high heel and making a quick dash away.  

 

Steve held up his cash and a generous tip for the cigarettes and was tempted to call out to her but decided against it, shrugging,

 

“Maybe next time.”

 

* * *

 

 

Two weeks before Christmas found Darcy skating around at the overcrowded 30 Rockefeller Center, intent on proving to Natasha that she had nimble enough fingers to pick the pocket of a crooked news reporter while she was reporting live on air.

 

It was less of a mission and more of a double dog dare situation.  

 

“Let me guess….figure skating coach?”

 

Darcy grinned as she turned to see the source of the sassy little comment.  There Steve Rogers was, leaning up against the wall on the outside of the rink.  She did a tight little turn and managed to land a single axle.  Before weaving her way through the skaters and back to where Steve loitered.

 

“I’ll have you know, Captain Rogers, that I’m still in my prime,” Darcy sassed right back, the impressed look on his face emboldening her.  “I’m training for Pyeongchang 2018.  There’s a rumor I might medal.”

 

“Before you have to get back to your rigorous training---” Steve shrugged and chuckled, “Or whatever it is you’re actually up to, I was wondering if you might like to go to dinner sometime.”

 

Darcy was never more thankful to having this be an unofficial mission.  No Cameron in her ear to offer his excited little bon mots.  

 

“I have some time coming up where I should be free around Christmas,” Darcy smiled.  

 

“How do you expect to medal if you don’t train more seriously?” Steve wondered, staring intently at her smile.

 

“Hey!  That’s Steve Rogers!  Captain Rogers!  Could we interview you?” the reporter called out from a little ways down the rink.  

 

Darcy waved at him and put a her hand up to her face in the shape of a phone before skating off quickly.  And on the second pass around, she went a little low and managed to snag the wallet right out of the jacket of the reporter while Steve wished the world a Happy Holiday on camera.

 

* * *

 

“What’d Romanoff need us to do again?” Sam demanded, clearly a little annoyed.  Helen Cho, his absolute favorite person on the face of the planet, was getting in from South Korea in two days to spend the holidays with him, and his apartment in Avengers Towers was a disaster and a half (namely due to an ongoing three-way prank war he had going with Barnes and Barton and the fifteen hundred gallon vat of glitter the two sharp shooters had obtained after Thanksgiving).  

 

“Don’t say her name like that, you schlub,” Bucky wrinkled his nose at Sam, his default expression for Steve’s  _ other _ best friend.  “Treat my lady with respect at all times.”

 

“Or you’ll what?  Defend her honor?” Sam rolled his eyes.

 

Bucky gave him a look of disappointed disbelief before holding up his cell phone and saying with utter seriousness, “No, I’ll call her and tattle.  Then I’ll buy a bucket of popcorn and watch her dismantle you.”

 

“Fair enough,” Sam admitted.

 

“She wanted us to pick up a package,” Steve cut in with the information before Bucky and Sam could devolve into complete chaotic arguing on the front lawn of Stark Manor.  

 

“Helluva package,” Bucky blew out a breath as he saw a small, curvy figure dressed in a black and white maid uniform straight out of Steve’s dreams.  “Hey, punk, isn’t that the lady you’ve been drawing non-stop for the last few weeks?”

 

Steve looked up to see Darcy Lewis on the roof of Stark Manor, in a little french maid outfit that was absolutely putting all of her lovely assets on full display.  

 

“Holy cow,” Bucky breathed as the diminutive little thing made a run for it, going pretty fast in those sky high stiletto heels.  She ran out of view and disappeared.  

 

“That’s your girl?” Sam blinked at Steve in disbelief.  “You’ve come a long way from barely being able to talk to Angela from accounting.”

 

“No---not my girl, I’d like to ask her out, but,” Steve shrugged.  “She’s always doing the craziest things...I never really get a chance to ask her out.  What do you think she was doing here, dressed like that?”

 

“Probably something for Stark,” Sam nodded.

 

“And pal, if you need help talking to a dame, don’t worry.  Wilson and I can manage to not bicker for five minutes and give you a little help,” Bucky promised.  He thought about that for a few seconds before giving Steve a smirk and admitting, “Well, we’ll probably still bicker, but it’ll be a sort of productive bickering.”

 

* * *

 

“I thought you had some time off for Christmas,” the humor in Steve’s voice could be heard even before Darcy turned around.

 

And the grin on his face was  _ inspirational _ .  He looked absolutely delighted.  Darcy wasn’t feeling that delightful, truth be told.  She was dressed up as an elf, working one last mission before her official two weeks vacation would begin.  Natasha had personally told her that she had to help thwart a kidnapping of a mutant child.  She’d drawn the short straw and had to become a temporary elf at Macy’s where the kidnapping was rumored to be planned at, while Natasha got to be the nanny that watched over the child every other minute of the day.

 

“I just wanted to get closer to the man with the bag,” Darcy quipped easily enough.  “I’ve got a couple of extra special requests and I figured it would help to have friends in high places.”

 

“You’re so corny,” Cameron criticized.  

 

“That’s pretty adorable,” Steve shook his head in wonder at her.

 

“You’re also, incredibly lucky that Captain Rogers seems to enjoy the corn,” Cameron added.

 

“So, where do elves like to go for milk and cookies after work?” Steve asked, his tone incredibly casual.  He winced a little and Darcy looked up at him, scrutinizing his expression.  

 

Her eyes narrowed when she recognized the incredibly small ear piece in his right ear.  Steve swallowed so hard that it might have actually been classified as a gulp. He was about to take a step away when Darcy grabbed onto his shirt front and yanked him forward, going up on her tiptoes and putting her lips against Steve’s ear.

 

“Hi Bucky and Sam!” she said as loudly as she dared in the very busy and loud department store (her voice was definitely loud enough to startle Steve).  

 

“It’s not what you think,” Steve said quickly.

 

“Hmmm,” Darcy nodded.  She tapped her own ear and shrugged.  “You’re not the only one with a Jiminy Cricket in your ear.  But mine is actually work related, so, I’m going to get back to that.  And when you want to try this again without your backup, then shoot me a text.”

 

“You’re---of course you are,” Steve shook his head, his eyes going crinkled at the edges as he reached up to his ear and yanked the very noisy ear piece out.  She had fibbed to him about working for SWORD, and with good reason too, as he could have easily blown her cover on every mission she had been on.  He watched as Darcy walked away in her incredibly adorable outfit and called out, “I don’t have your number.”

 

“Ask your brain trust to get it from Nat,” Darcy advised before rushing back to work.”

 

Steve laughed and put his ear piece back in hastily.

 

“Did you hear that, brain trust?” Steve demanded as Sam and Bucky continued to bicker in his ear, as they had been doing for the last fifteen minutes.  “I’m really going to need her number.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So, what do I have to do to get her number from you?” Steve wondered as he entered Natasha’s secret office where she did her non-Avengers spy business with SWORD.  The new spy agency was Natasha’s domain.  She very rarely even let any of her fellow Avengers near it, claiming she needed to keep  _ some fun _ for herself.  And apparently, for Darcy Lewis as well.

 

“Whatever could you mean, Steve?” Natasha asked with an insolent sort of false innocence, looking like a satisfied cat who had the market on cream.  

 

“Darcy Lewis,” Steve sat down in front of Natasha’s surprisingly opulent, oak desk.  

 

“Is my best field agent.  Unorthodox to be sure,” Natasha nodded.  “But she always gets the job done and looks good doing it.”

 

“And I’ve run into her quite a bit this holiday season,” Steve smirked at her.  “I can take a hint, you know.  Natasha Romanoff doesn’t allow coincidences to happen.”

 

“They’re messy,” Natasha admitted.  

 

“So---why let me meet her now?  Why not a few years back when you were trying to set me up with every single woman in Washington DC?” Steve wondered.

 

“You weren’t ready for  _ the one  _ then,” Natasha smiled easily.

 

“And now you think I am?” Steve wondered, more than a little hopeful.  

 

“Rogers, I wouldn’t have made your paths cross if you weren’t,” Natasha shook her head in amusement.  She scribbled a few lines on a post-it note and held it up to him, snatching it away before he could grab it.    “What do you say?”

 

“Thank you?”

 

“And----”

 

Steve sighed before smiling ruefully and admitting with a healthy dose of self-effacing humor, “You were right, Natasha.  As always.”

 

* * *

 

Darcy turned on the infinitesimally small electric heater that looked like a tiny, old fashioned fireplace that she had stationed at her feet and sat back on the couch, eyeing the stack of blankets and pillows she had ready and waiting.  She had to wait for one last thing to make her Christmas Eve night complete, and that was about two and a half bags of high sodium content cheap Chinese food.  

 

And then it was definitely time to start on a very organized list of films that would properly usher in her Christmas vacation.  

 

But first and most importantly, she had to consume her body weight in steamed pork dumplings.  

 

Finally,  _ finally _ her buzzer sounded throughout the small one bedroom apartment that she kept in Brooklyn as her safe haven away from the dangerous business of spying.  Natasha kept a similar place three blocks over and one block down, and she was pretty sure Sharon Carter and Cameron Klein were planning on moving in together two blocks left of her when Cameron finally decided on the right time to pop the question.  It was a safe neighborhood for spies, apparently, and Darcy wouldn’t complain because it also happened to be rent controlled.  

 

She rushed to the door, eager to get her movie marathon started right with  _ Elf _ before moving onto  _ The Last Holiday _ and then springboarding right into  _ Love Actually _ .  And that was just the first three films in a twenty-two hour movie marathon.  She yanked open her door waving a handful of bills for her favorite delivery boy and was gobsmacked to see Steve Rogers standing there with three bags of Chinese food and an earnest smile on his face.

 

“Finally getting a day off of work?” Steve asked hopefully.

 

“I think you already know the answer to that,” Darcy said knowingly.

  
  


“Natasha may have briefed me on your current employment situation and that you had some vacation coming up that she was actually going to let you keep,” Steve nodded.  “So...flighty, huh?”

 

“I have a confession to make,” Darcy nodded, beckoning Steve closer with a crook of her right index finger.  “I think I have a thing for danger.”

 

“Well then...you came to the right---I mean, it’s a good thing,” Steve smiled ruefully, obviously missing the arguing in his ear that sometimes led to the correct thing to say.  “I’m your guy.”

 

“Hmmm, not yet,” Darcy smiled, standing to the side and gesturing to the inside of her modest, but truly lovely little living space.  “But we’ll see what we can do about that.  How do you feel about an overabundance of Christmas Cheer and also, ordering pizza as a second course?”

 

“I feel that you and I are going to get along just fine,” Steve grinned.  He placed the bags of takeout on her coffee table and turned to her, grabbing a hand and bringing it up to his lips in a genuine and modest display of affection.  “Merry Christmas, Lady Jacquine, Missy May, sassy cigarette girl, mystery maid and Santa’s favorite elf.”

 

“Wait, you saw the maid outfit?” Darcy blinked up at him nervously.

 

“Yes,” Steve grinned dreamily as he remembered the outfit.  “Yes, I did.”

 

Darcy let a small smile tilt the corners of her mouth up at his reaction and gave a cute little shrug of her shoulders, “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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